


Meet Me Halfway

by Akumeoi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Intimacy, M/M, Military Backstory, One Night Stands, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 19:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20452442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: Right before the end of the Lucis/Niflheim war, MT Prompto deserted the Niflheim army and ran away to neutral Tenebrae. There, he met another ex-soldier, Noctis, who he hoped could become his friend. But things didn't go how either of them expected...





	Meet Me Halfway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MathClassWarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/gifts).

> Thank you so much to Math for bidding on me in the FTH auction! <3
> 
> Although I was really excited to work with this premise, this fic fought me the way few of my other fics have. I rewrote each scene at least 3 times each (this is not an exaggeration). Thank you so much to Astraia, Yuneyn, and Glittercracker for supporting me and reading over this fic multiple times before posting. 
> 
> Potential trigger warning for vague PTSD-like symptoms and both main characters being veterans.

Prompto entered the pub desperate for some human contact. When he closed his eyes for too long, bombs exploded behind them. Running away to the Tenebrean mountains had been the best decision of his life, but now that he was getting paid to work all day in the peace and fresh air, all alone and tending garulas, he had found himself besieged with the memories of all he’d left behind. Bombed-out villages ablaze, the survivors screaming when units of monstrous MTs fell upon them, blood splattering the earth as from the sky swooped down the angel of death. Its armour glowed from within with a sick golden light as it rained deadly bolts of energy which sparked and --

Shuddering, Prompto tried to pull himself together, recall himself to the present moment. Tenebrae was a neutral zone, uninvolved in the Lucis/Niflheim conflict and protected by the power of the Oracle and the members of her sacred church. He was safe here, in this pub, which contained a group of white-haired old friends, some teens playing darts, and a handful of other locals. Some of them were eating baskets of the local comfort food, while others were drinking with small bowls of peanuts and pretzels close at hand. The atmosphere was so mundane and cosy that Prompto never knew what to make of it. He could hardly believe that people lived like this every single day, let alone for their whole lives. The country seemed at times to not even know that such a thing as war existed. It was jarring.

One of the locals waved to Prompto, but he just waved back as he walked to the bar. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to the woman other than vague pleasantries. 

The bartender tonight was the pub’s owner, Mr. Scientia. Since Prompto was renting a room in the upstairs of the pub until he could arrange more permanent housing, he was pretty familiar with Mr. Scientia. He was surprisingly cultivated for someone whose main occupation was running a combination inn, restaurant, bar-type-thing. But Prompto was used to being surprised by everything in Tenebrae. 

"What can I get you?" Mr. Scientia asked as Prompto slid onto the polished bar stool, and Prompto ordered a glass of beer. He hadn’t yet become adventurous and branched out from simple and unassuming drinks. One of these days, he aspired to order a cocktail. He liked the little paper umbrellas and the fact that they were supposed to be fruity.

At the far end of the bar was a man with messy black hair which mostly hid his face, hunched over what looked to be a glass of beer. There was no one on the stool next to him, but from his posture Prompto gathered he was used to drinking alone. He looked the way that Prompto felt - guarded, in a seemingly relaxed way that belied an inner tension. Wondering about the man's history, Prompto accepted the glass of beer that Mr. Scientia had put in front of him.

"That's Noctis Umbrae," the bartender said, inclining his head towards the black-haired man Prompto had been observing. "He’s a regular here, and don’t worry - he’s quite alright alone. I know him well." The bartender smiled fondly.

“I see,” Prompto said, fiddling with his coaster. When Mr. Scientia turned away to serve another customer, Prompto shot another look over at Noctis. This time, Noctis noticed him staring and looked up. Cool blue eyes met Prompto’s pale blue-violet ones. Noctis raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I’m alone and you seem alone so I thought we could be friends?” Prompto blurted out.

Noctis’s eyes lit with interest, and he gestured for Prompto to hop off his bar stool and onto the one beside him, so they would be sitting next to each other. Although he had no idea what had possessed him to be so honest to this stranger (maybe it was the eyes), Prompto only hesitated a moment before doing just that, sliding his glass of beer along with him and giving Noctis a timid smile. 

“You’re new around here?” Noctis asked. 

“Yeah, I’ve been garula-herding,” Prompto said. 

“What else do you do?” 

Prompto hesitated, then sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know. I spent most of my life in the army, so I don’t really have any hobbies.” 

“Not even when you were a kid?” Noctis said, sounding surprised. 

“I started training young.”

Noctis raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I was in the army too, but…”

So Prompto’s instinct had been truer than he’d known - Noctis’s guarded tension probably came from the same place Prompto’s did. Military history. 

When Prompto didn’t reply, Noctis shrugged. “Here’s to retirement,” Noctis said, clinking his glass against Prompto’s and taking a drink. “Why’d you end up out here?”

“So many reasons…” Prompto said, also taking a sip of his beer. “Mostly I was just over the violence, and in being part of it. I felt like I was being used, and I didn’t believe in what they wanted me to fight for.”

Noctis blinked at him, and belatedly Prompto realised that the meaning of that question had probably been not why he left the army but why he’d come to Tenebrae. Prompto’s stomach clenched. This was almost certainly not how normal people had conversations. If only Prompto had some experience talking with people as equals, instead of as his handlers or subordinates. 

But in the end, Noctis just commented, “I’m surprised you didn’t defect.”

“No. I didn’t want to risk hurting any more civilians. And I don’t even know who I am outside of being a soldier,” Prompto admitted. If they were going to have a friendship or something, Noctis might as well know that up front. Still, this was _definitely_ not how normal people had conversations. 

“Hey…” Noctis said, peering at him in concern. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll figure it out. Here, have some more beer, you’ve hardly touched it.”

Smiling crookedly, Prompto threw back another gulp. “Thanks,” he said, feeling a little bit better. “So why did you… end up here?”

Noctis grimaced. “I was pretty sure my days were numbered, like if I stayed I was gonna get killed any minute. Now that I’m out here, I feel almost safe.”

Prompto understood what Noctis meant by almost safe. It was how he felt too. Logically, nothing in this friendly, mountainous town in Tenebrae could hurt him, but try telling that to his dumb, panicky brain. 

“I think I get that,” Prompto said. “I want to feel safe here, but I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, it’s hard, isn’t it? I’ve been here for six months, but I think I’m finally getting better.”

“Teach me your ways, senpai,” Prompto joked. 

Noctis laughed. “Sure, I can try. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you some more.”

At that, Prompto’s face broke into a broad smile. Despite his awkward conversational fumbling, it seemed like maybe he and Noctis were going to be friends. Prompto had never had a friend before, not really. 

“Maybe outside of the bar though? It’d be nice to have some privacy,” Prompto suggested, thinking that if they were going to be talking about their shared experiences more he didn’t really want to do it in front of all these innocent civilians. He was glad that the bar stool beside him still remained empty and Mr. Scientia was at the other end of the bar, or he’d be feeling pretty uncomfortable right now.

“Uh… wow, I didn’t expect you to offer so soon,” Noctis said, looking a little surprised. “Sure, we can leave right now if you want to.”

Prompto in turn was surprised that Noctis was so eager to leave, but he didn’t have any reason to stay in the bar, he didn’t really want to drink any more, and he still didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. “My room is in the upstairs of this pub, so we won’t have far to go,” Prompto suggested. 

“That’s just next door,” Noctis laughed, then drained the last of his beer. Prompto did the same. They paid Mr. Scientia and left the bar via the staircase at the back of the room. Mr. Scientia smiled benevolently at the two of them as they walked out, glad to see his friend Noctis and that nice shy young man getting along so well.

As Noctis and Prompto entered Prompto’s rented bedroom, the rays of the setting sun painted the floor in warm orange light. Both of them took off their shoes by the door. Now that they were actually here Prompto didn’t quite know what to do. Noctis disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. When he came out, Prompto was standing by the window trying to think of conversation topics.

Hearing Noctis re-enter the room, Prompto turned sheepishly towards him and said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Sighing, Prompto looked away as Noctis came to join him beside the window, putting a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. Noctis’s company was so relaxing.

Just as Prompto was thinking that, several things happened in quick succession: Noctis put his other hand on Prompto’s waist, Prompto looked up at Noctis’s face in confusion, and then Noctis had kissed him.

Prompto froze, suddenly understanding. Did Noctis want to make out with him… sleep with him? Prompto knew that was a thing people did, they met in bars and invited each other over to have sex. He had just never experienced it before, and was frankly shocked that it was happening to him now. What mysterious signals had he accidentally given to Noctis to get him to think that Prompto was interested in this? 

When Prompto did not return the kiss, Noctis immediately took a step back and said, “I’m sorry, did you not want…?” He looked somewhat mortified. Prompto thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just surprised. I’ve never done this before, so…” Prompto trailed off. _Did_ he want to do this? Noctis’s lips had felt… weird, but in a way that made him somehow curious to kiss him again. Although Prompto didn’t have much experience allowing himself to express desire, he had to admit that Noctis was attractive, with his elegant blue eyes and fine features. And maybe, the two of them had some things in common. Prompto wanted to trust Noctis, and he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe this could be the distraction he had been - well, longing for. 

But now he was feeling nervous. Eyes flicking to Noctis’s face, Prompto bit his lip.

“So…?” Noctis prompted. He had backed off to a respectful distance and was holding both hands clasped behind his back, peering at Prompto in concern.

Prompto made the snap decision to trust him. “So let’s keep it simple?” he said hopefully. 

Noctis breathed out and stepped back into Prompto’s personal space. “Anything you don’t like, tell me right away, okay?” he said, and Prompto relaxed just a little bit. 

“You too, I guess,” Prompto said with a nervous little chuckle. 

“Of course,” Noctis said. He raised his hands as if to cup Prompto’s waist, then hesitated. “So, should I just…”

Head spinning, Prompto put his own hands on Noctis’s waist and nodded. Then for the second time, Noctis’s lips touched his, and Prompto eagerly kissed him back. Noctis cupped the back of Prompto’s head with one hand, running his fingers softly through Prompto’s short hair. Immediately, Prompto was overwhelmed by the soft texture of Noctis’s lips and the heat of his body at the points where they touched. It was impossible to process all of those new sensations at once, but Prompto’s heart was beginning to beat faster in a way that left him breathless.

As they kissed, Noctis slowly backed the two of them toward the bed, until with gentle pressure on Prompto’s shoulders he got the two of them seated on it without breaking the kiss. Prompto was totally absorbed in following along with Noctis’s kisses, accepting Noctis’s gentle licks and nips and trying to give some in return. Noctis’s hands were warm on his body, and he could feel a growing tightness between his legs. There were so many sensations that Prompto completely lost track of his surroundings, only surfacing when Noctis pressed a kiss to his neck instead of to his mouth. 

Flicking his eyes open (when had they closed?), Prompto focused on a freckle on Noctis’s forehead and felt warm hands running over his body, over his shirt. 

Prompto shivered, feeling like he was caught under a powerful spell and imagining those hands running directly over his skin. Was he supposed to be moving _his_ hands more? Experimentally, he tried caressing Noctis’s back and Noctis gave an encouraging murmur as their lips met again. 

“Aren’t we like, supposed to take our shirts off or something?” Prompto said, through uncertain breaths.

“Sure, if you’re ready,” Noctis said, his hands moving to the hem of Prompto’s shirt. A thought flashed across Prompto’s mind, and he hesitated. Was he really prepared to reveal everything to this sympathetic stranger? Prompto’s body was not… natural, or beautiful. He would even go so far as to call it horrible. 

But he was burning with want for this. And Noctis had been a soldier. Surely he had seen things like Prompto before. In the Niflheim army, it was impossible to escape them.

“Together?” Prompto said shyly, his hands moving to cover Noctis’s. Noctis gave an encouraging smile and then, in a nearly synchronised motion, the two of them peeled off their shirts.

Feeling suddenly exposed, Prompto’s eyes roamed over Noctis’s bare torso. What he saw made the desire in his stomach suddenly turn sick.

Noctis’s body was covered in scars - distinctive, unmistakable scars, white lines of knitted flesh backed with shimmering purple bruises - healed demon and Magitek attacks. To top it all off, he had what appeared to be a healed bullet wound on one shoulder. Prompto had made a serious miscalculation. Noctis was from Lucis. 

But Prompto _was from Niflheim_. So the two of them were - or had been until far too recently - enemies. 

And not only was Prompto an enemy to Noctis, but the ultimate enemy, and Noctis was reading the story written in Prompto’s skin just as surely as Prompto had read the one written in his. Thin black ink traced lines across Prompto’s body, marking where weapons would form, where celestial steel blades would burst from his back and form terrible wings, where armour made of light would close over his body and turn him into the ultimate living, non-demonic weapon. The transformation could happen in seconds if Prompto willed it. 

Prompto froze. Noctis’s eyes flashed, and his posture tensed as he readied for an action. Prompto had no intention of dying here, but he also had no intention of killing an innocent person, no matter what it cost him. Prompto and Noctis watched each other intently, neither willing to be the first to move and attack the other.

Swallowing, Prompto tried to find something to say to convince Noctis to just agree this had been a terrible mistake and let him go. He wanted to apologise for everything Niflheim had done to Lucis and everything he’d done that had helped ruin Noctis’s country, his countrymen, his life. But it was far too late for that now. Noctis just waited, still and alert as a stalking jungle cat. 

“I’m sorry,” Prompto finally said, hating himself. “Please, can I - can we just stop - pretend this didn't happen?”

Noctis finally moved, sliding away from Prompto as his posture softened. Prompto grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on, looking away from Noctis in shame. Noctis picked his shirt up off the floor, then walked slowly over to the door. There, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. 

“Wait,” Noctis said, and Prompto froze.

“You said you don’t like violence and you don’t kill civilians, right?” Noctis said, recalling Prompto’s words from the bar. Prompto nodded. “Well… I believe you,” Noctis said. “So… I’ll leave if you want me to, but… I don’t mind staying. If you want.”

All Prompto could do was stare back at Noctis’s calm gaze. Whatever Noctis was thinking, he wasn’t broadcasting it. What he had said made him seem confident and somehow knowing, and he didn’t look afraid, but there was a softness in him, a shyness. Prompto had no idea what to make of it. He had never met anyone in any way similar to Noctis before. 

“You still want to… what - kiss - kiss me? Why?” Prompto challenged him, wondering how on earth Noctis could possibly summon any tenderness in his heart, any genuine intimacy for _him_. 

Shrugging, Noctis gave a lopsided smile. “Why not? We’re free now, right?”

Physically free, maybe, but Prompto’s heart was still beating painfully. How long had Noctis been in Tenebrae? Six months. Maybe long enough not to care about whose side anyone was on anymore. Prompto wanted that for himself - to be that indifferent. And he yearned for a taste of intimacy and kindness. Could he bring himself to accept Noctis’s touch? Things were supposed to be different, here.

“I want to,” Prompto said, finally letting his gaze drop to the side. “But I don’t know how - how we can do this. Are you _sure_ you want to? I thought - I thought you would hate me,” he finally admitted in a small voice. 

“No,” Noctis said simply, shifting closer to Prompto again. Prompto wanted to ask what Noctis was responding to, but the noise was mounting in his head as he tried to sort out his painful feelings and thoughts. His stomach churned, his hands clenched into fists even as he kept his eyes fixed on the carpeted floor.

Noctis came even closer, so close that Prompto could feel the heat radiate from his naked chest, but Prompto did not pull away. 

“Well?” Noctis asked softly. 

Prompto’s heart was still beating like a hammer, but he finally turned away from the door and pulled his shirt off again, dropping his gaze away. For a moment, Noctis did nothing. And then Prompto felt a soft kiss against his collarbone. 

The tenderness of the gesture made Prompto startle, then let out a clipped breath.

He didn’t look up as Noctis cupped his cheek. Ever slow, ever calm, Noctis flattened his palm and caressed the side of Prompto’s neck, then on down to his shoulder. With a gentle but directed hand, Noctis stroked Prompto’s back and side, pressing closer still until Prompto could feel - for the first time in his life - the unique softness of a bare chest pressing up against his own. It made his breath hitch in his throat. Noctis didn’t kiss him, simply leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes. His hands caressed Prompto’s back, his sides, his arms, so intimate and warm.

It was strange, so incredibly strange, even with all the other new things that had already happened to Prompto that night. Noctis’s touch was comforting in a way Prompto had not experienced before in his life. No one had ever touched him without some kind of clinical judgement or impersonal detachment, no one had ever wanted to make him feel good like this. Overwhelmed, Prompto put his arms around Noctis and just held on tight. Together they sank down to sit on the rug as they held each other.

Noctis’s fingers skimmed over the lines of Prompto’s tattoos, and he said, “Can you feel this?”

“They’re magic and don’t feel anything,” Prompto admitted, his voice subdued.

“My scars don’t either,” Noctis said. Maybe it was just in Prompto’s mind, but he thought that maybe Noctis was implying, _so we are more similar than you think._

The light had completely faded from the sky outside, bringing down a peaceful dark that could be seen through the half-open curtain, as well as the majestic pinpricks of the stars. Inside their small room, the two lights flanking the bed bathed it in a soft yellow glow. Under Noctis’s touch, Prompto began to relax again, letting himself sink into the physical sensations he was experiencing, the warmth and the intimacy of them. As he did so, the arousal that had flooded him earlier began to kindle back to life. Prompto’s breath hitched.

Taking that as a cue, Noctis kissed Prompto’s lips. When Prompto let him in, Noctis half-carried him to the bed and fulfilled his promise to make love to Prompto in the most simple and honest way he knew how. Prompto was too surprised and inexperienced to properly love him back, but he had the aspiration.

For both of them, it was enough.

Afterwards, Prompto lay beside Noctis in the bed, watching a shaft of moonlight washing over Noctis’s face. Noctis was breathing evenly, his eyes closed, but by some instinct Prompto knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Was it really okay?” Prompto finally said.

With a resigned sigh, Noctis opened his eyes, stretched, and put his arms under the pillow behind his head. “It’s really fine. I knew there was a chance you would be from Niflheim or Galahad, I just didn’t know you might be an MT.”

Oh no, Prompto was far more than just a simple MT. But there was no way he could admit that, and it was close enough to the truth, so he just let it pass. 

“But wait,” Prompto said, “why didn’t you tell me you were from Lucis?”

Noctis’s eyes widened, and then he coughed. “In hindsight, I should’ve said something.”

Seeing how hard Noctis was trying to avoid looking embarrassed, Prompto snorted with laughter. 

“Things went a lot faster than I thought they would, okay?” Noctis said, annoyed. “Fine, listen. I’m not a regular soldier either.”

“Kingsglaive?” Prompto said, and Noctis shrugged. For a moment, they fell silent again.

“But why were you were so… nice?” Prompto said, feeling the word pathetically inadequate to describe how gentle and patient Noctis had been with him, how gracious. 

Even so, Noctis seemed to understand what he was talking about. “Someone else did this for me, so…”

“What, slept with you even though… you used to be enemies?” 

Noctis snorted. “No. After the war, I…” He paused for a long time in the dark, thinking. “Someone… reminded me… that people can be… soft.”

A lump rose to Prompto’s throat, and he blinked back tears. That was something that he’d hardly ever known. For him, this had been less of a reminder and more of an introduction.

“Will you stay here tonight?” he asked in a small voice. Although he was still baffled by hook-up etiquette, Prompto had a feeling this wasn’t the way things usually went. He knew he needed time by himself to process all of this, but he didn’t want Noctis to leave.

“Suit yourself,” Noctis said languidly, closing his eyes again. “This bed’s big enough for two. Just don’t wake me up before noon.”

Prompto couldn’t help himself. Shifting closer, he let their shoulders brush. Noctis didn’t pull away, and soon they had fallen asleep, still bathed in each other’s warmth.

The next morning, Prompto lay in bed and watched Noctis sleep for a long time, mulling over everything that had happened the day before. Although he wasn’t completely successful, he knew that something had changed irrevocably within himself, and that whatever it was was bound up in Noctis. 

Over the next few weeks, Noctis and Prompto spent a lot of time together. Prompto finally moved out of the pub and rented a studio apartment in the same building as Noctis. Aside from eating and drinking in the pub together, they started walking in the hills together, sometimes talking and joking, sometimes just spending time in silence. 

And of course, they spent many nights together, sharing a bed and the secrets of their bodies. Prompto started learning how to have sex and quickly discovered he had two modes: a more passive, shy mode where he gratefully absorbed the physical delights Noctis heaped on him, and a more active, energetic mode where he got creative and put all his effort towards making Noctis cum as hard as possible. The latter was more common. This was good, because Noctis, although he was always sensitive to Prompto’s needs, started becoming more endearingly impatient and lazy the less Prompto needed to be taught. 

It was weird, the connection that Prompto felt so strongly for Noctis. He didn’t have the words to describe what relationship they had, but he knew that he had a very strong affinity for him, and he wanted to stay by his side.

One evening, Prompto came home after work to find a note slipped under his door, from Noctis. It read: “Come over when you get the chance. Bad day today.”

Prompto was worried, but not unduly concerned. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. On the anniversaries of Lucis’s various military defeats or the deaths of his friends, Noctis always became melancholy and tired. At first, he had shut Prompto out, preferring to be alone rather than face anyone when he was feeling that way. But gradually, he’d come to allow Prompto in. Prompto hated seeing Noctis so upset, but would always rather take care of him than let him suffer alone. 

The door to Noctis’s apartment was unlocked. When Prompto went inside, he saw Noctis sitting on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His chin rested on his knees, and he gazed off into the distance, a thousand miles away. All the curtains were drawn, and the room was gloomy and still. Tentatively, Prompto approached the bed.

“Noct?” he said softly. Noctis blinked. It took a few moments, but Noctis seemed to pull himself back into his body a little, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. 

“You know what day it is?” Noctis murmured.

Prompto shook his head. “I try not to look at the calendar, except when I have to for work,” he said. In all honesty, Prompto didn’t even know what month it was.

Noctis’s eyes flicked open. “It’s the anniversary of the end of the war.”

“Oh.” Prompto blinked. No wonder everyone in town had seemed to be cheerful today. For Prompto, it was not really the end of the war that mattered so much, but the day a month or so prior when he had committed what could be compassionately termed “sabotage” and deserted. But he could see how this would be the more significant date for everyone else whose personal war had not ended when they simply ran away. Cautiously, Prompto took a seat on the edge of the bed, close enough to Noctis to reach out and touch him, but not close enough to disturb his personal space. “Isn’t that a good thing?” Prompto asked.

Noctis shook his head. With another sigh, he uncurled and relaxed into a cross-legged sitting position. “It’s good because Lucis isn’t destroyed. It’s bad because… I wish it had ended differently.”

“You mean you wish Lucis wasn’t a tithe state now,” Prompto guessed.

“Yeah.” Noctis briefly scrubbed a hand across his face, accidentally pushing up his bangs. He was silent for a moment, and Prompto laid a hand across his knee. 

“I also wish…” Noctis stopped. “You’ll probably think it’s dumb.” 

“No,” Prompto said earnestly, withdrawing his hand. “Never.”

“I wish it had ended because Lucis… found power. Or a bargaining chip. Or won a battle, or something. Not because the death angels went crazy and fought each other to death. Niflheim wouldn’t admit it, but I know that’s why the war ended. They couldn’t fight our gods without their death angels. But we didn’t do anything. It was just chance that saved us.”

A little thrill went through Prompto at the mention of the angels of death. Niflheim’s ultimate living weapons. Each one could destroy an entire village by itself, and go toe to toe with a Lucian god in battle. For a moment, the scent of smoke filled Prompto’s nostrils, and he had to count breaths to force himself to calm. 

“You okay?” Noctis said.

“No, but neither are you,” Prompto said, giving a lopsided, pained grin. “But Noct, you’re wrong. It… wasn’t just chance.”

“Oh?” Noctis frowned. “What do you know about it?”

Prompto thought about it for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words. 

“The… the angels - the mark x2s, they…”

Once again, the memories rose unbidden in a great, choking wave. There was so much he couldn’t say without potentially losing Noctis’s trust. This conversation was a minefield. But Noctis _needed_ him. He had to say _something_. Prompto was perhaps the only person in the world who knew the truth about why the war had ended. The only person who could comfort Noctis. But if he did speak, he could lose him. 

But maybe Prompto didn’t deserve the safety of a lie. Maybe telling the truth was one of the things he should be doing as part of his atonement. 

“Prompto?” Noctis gently asked, and Prompto realised he’d been looking at the far wall with what could probably be described as a thousand-yard stare. Summoning his strength, he cleared his throat and looked back at Noctis. 

“Noct, I - I could tell you - things,” Prompto said, voice dropping to a strangled whisper. “You should know. It wasn’t just random chance. I - someone - someone planned it on purpose.” He stopped, biting his lip as if to hold back the words. Noctis just looked back at him - patient, confused, concerned. 

“You have some kind of… inside information?”

“More than that. I was there. And I can tell you. When one of the angels killed the other three, it was because he was sick of war. Because he wanted to escape. Because he had too much blood on his hands, and he knew Lucis didn’t deserve it.”

Prompto’s voice gained in intensity as he spoke, then dropped back down into silence. Throughout Prompto’s short speech, Noctis’s cool blue gaze remained locked on him, giving his words the serious attention they deserved. Prompto knew that Noctis must be trying to understand, and was afraid both that he’d said too much and that he hadn’t said enough. 

Noctis took a breath. “And that angel - the one who killed the others. Did he survive?”

Prompto barely had enough breath to whisper, “How much do you want to know?”

A pause. “Everything,” Noctis said. “But only if you’re okay. If this is too much for you…”

“It’s not, as long as it doesn’t make you hate me,” Prompto said, trying for a joking tone and failing completely. 

“I could never,” Noctis said earnestly. “Not even today.”

After considering this, Prompto took a deep breath. His ears were beginning to ring, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. “Okay then, Noct. Go on. Ask me anything.” 

“Did you just witness it or were you… involved?”

“I was involved. I was -” _smell of blood, nails pressed into his hands_ “I mean, I am -” _light unfolding around him, the sound of explosions_ “Noct, I _am_ -”

“Get back!” Noctis shouted, shoving Prompto off the bed. Staggering backwards, Prompto came back into himself. He was glowing. The lines inked into his skin were alight and golden, and before he could stop it, his armour was bursting from those lines to encase him. First the body armour, then the helm, and finally, wings made of blinding swords of light. Too flustered to stop it, Prompto dropped to one knee before the bed, bowed his head, and crossed both arms over his knee. His heart was pounding like a kettle drum.

There was a curious crystal chiming, and when Prompto glanced up he saw clear flakes dancing in the silver air. The light emanating from Noctis clashed with the light emanating from himself, golden yellow and silvery blue fighting for the darkness between them. In his hand, Noctis was holding an elaborate sword, one Prompto would have recognised anywhere. 

“Oh,” he whispered, swallowing. “It’s you.”

Prompto Argentum, the only surviving Angel of Death (MT-X2) of Niflheim, found himself kneeling before the abdicated prince of Lucis, Noctis Lucis Caelum. 

When Noctis didn’t speak, Prompto continued, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, Noct. I was trying to work up to telling you with actual words. I really hope you meant it when you said you couldn’t hate me. _I_ meant it when I said I was sick of war and I wanted to be free.”

There was a thump. In Prompto’s line of sight, Noctis’s knees had hit the ground in front of him, and Noctis had planted the tip of his sword in the space between them. They were a strange mirror, two warriors of light, bowing to each other in submission. Prompto looked up, his helm retracting into nothing.

“I can’t believe you were ever a death angel,” Noctis said. “You’re too - good. You really killed the others?”

“I didn’t just want to run away, I wanted to fix my mistakes. I know I can never make up for everything I did. But at least I could stop the angels from hurting anyone ever again. So I did. And,” Prompto continued recklessly, “I did it for you. For the prince of Lucis.”

“I… what? Why? You didn’t even know me.”

How could Prompto explain how much Noctis meant to him, back when he was a slave to the Niflheim army? Everyone Prompto had ever known had treated him like a machine, an object. Civilians were treated as pawns at best. The Lucians were supposed to be hateful monsters. But at the Battle of Lestallum, Prompto had seen. Noctis risked his life to protect _his_ civilians. A glowing silver figure, honourable and compassionate, so different to anyone Prompto had ever known and everything he’d ever been taught. 

“I always thought that if I did save a civilian, or I tried not to hurt one, it would actually matter to someone out there - it would matter to you. It sounds dumb to say that I did things just because I thought a prince I’d never met might think I was a good person for doing them. But I did.”

At Prompto’s words, Noctis seemed frozen. Gently, Prompto put his arms around Noctis and then raised the both of them to their feet, seating them both back on the bed together. Noctis made a gesture and his sword vanished back into the ether. The glow faded around them both as Prompto’s armour retracted back into his skin. He could see Noctis’s eyes glistening with tears. 

“You mean it,” Noctis said in a choked whisper. Prompto nodded, and Noctis leaned forward and hugged Prompto with all of his strength. Prompto couldn’t help but blink back tears of his own, raising his arms to hug Noctis in return. 

“You were fighting for me. I thought I was a failure,” Noctis said in a low voice. Behind that one sentence, Prompto could sense there was a large volume of words that Noctis couldn’t say. Knowing Noctis as well as he did, Prompto could guess at some of them: if a leader could inspire an enemy warrior to defect for him, that leader couldn’t be considered a failure. 

“You changed my life,” Prompto replied sincerely, brushing some hair from Noctis’s face. They held each other in silence for long minutes, their hearts slowly calming. It hit Prompto, in that moment, that he was finally meeting one of his heroes in person, but then again, Noctis Umbrae had been his hero before he’d ever known he was also Noctis Lucis Caelum. Noctis, who taught him on the battlefield that it wasn’t wrong to value life, and in private that people can be soft. 

“Noct,” Prompto said, finally drawing back to look Noctis in the eyes. “I would do it again. If Niflheim were to break the treaty. If the war were to start up again. I would fight for you. I would fight for Lucis.”

Staring back in confusion, Noctis said, “I would never ask that of you, Prompto. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“I know you wouldn’t ask it of me,” Prompto said. That was sort of the point. Because Noctis _wouldn’t_ ask for it, it was perfectly safe to offer. Prompto’s faith in Noctis had been rewarded from the first day they met. Prompto never wanted to see a battlefield again, but if he ever truly _had_ to, he felt he could bear it if Noctis were at his side.

“But I want to help you. If it were for something I could believe in, I could fight again. If… if we have to take Lucis back someday,” Prompto clarified. 

Stunned, Noctis could only reply, “Thank you.”

“Just promise me one thing?” Prompto said, and Noctis looked at him expectantly. “Promise me we’ll always be equals. If you have to start being a prince again and I have to start being a weapon.”

“Not a weapon,” Noctis said seriously. “A warrior. And yes, of course. I promise.”

There was nothing Prompto could reply to that with other than a passionate, grateful kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> A song for this story: [War by Poets of the Fall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUrn-zMLQvE).  
Alternate title for this fic: Two Soldiers Walk Into A Bar  
Not sure about the current title. May change it. This one was inspired by _[Meet Me Half Way Across the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_Dd6XBOu18)_ by Kenny Loggins (Don't click unless you like 80s music lol)
> 
> Prompto not knowing how hook ups or alcohol work is such a mood. And I also like the little paper umbrellas. Forget the cocktail. Just give me the umbrella. 
> 
> Comments welcome!


End file.
